


High Noon at the Avengers Saloon

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash 100 Drabble tag 5: Marvel [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Community: femslash100, Crack, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I would say she’s <i>my</i> friend,” Romanoff said from the end of the bar, black velvet hat tipped low over her eyes, “but I don’t <i>have</i> friends.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Noon at the Avengers Saloon

**Author's Note:**

> For the femslash100 drabble tag 5 prompt: Natasha/Sif - calamity. Total self-indulgent crack here, but hot damn did I have fun writing it.

“The Frost Queen cometh,” Stark joked, leaning against the bar as he polished his pocket watch with one of Rogers’ bar towels.

“Be kind,” Rogers chided, snatching the towel away.  “If she’s a friend of Thor, she’s a friend of this saloon.”

“I would say she’s _my_ friend,” Romanoff said from the end of the bar, black velvet hat tipped low over her eyes, “but I don’t _have_ friends.”  She dropped something into her half-finished drink before standing.

The bar went quiet as the saloon doors clattered open and a shadow fell over the room.

Sif stood tall in her dark green dress and black boots, as much of a lady as she was a sharpshooter.  Her hair was pinned up with silver daggers hilted in emeralds, though one jewel was amiss, and everyone knew she carried knives in both her garters.  She was known for the jewels sewn to the sash she wore with her dress, always taken from gun-women who dared to cross her path.

Natasha touched the pistol at her hip.

“Now ladies, let’s not have a calamity in my bar,” Rogers said.

“No calamity here, Steve,” Natasha retorted, brushing past Sif with hardly a glance.

Everyone in the bar exhaled as Sif sat down in Natasha’s spot.

“What can I get you, ma’am?”

Sif just smiled and spilled out Natasha’s half-filled glass, the mysterious object tumbling onto the bar.  “I’ve already found what I came for, thanks.”

It was an emerald.


End file.
